


Let Me Tell You Just Exactly What’s On My Mind

by theshipsfirstmate



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, for lerayon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: For the Pitch Valentine’s Gift Exchange. Because Mike Lawson deserves a ring."Not much in his life has gone the way he expected, Mike realizes now, looking into her eyes and seeing the rest of his future. Somehow, it’s always better that way."





	Let Me Tell You Just Exactly What’s On My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lerayon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lerayon/gifts).



_a/n: Happy Valentine's to lerayon and the rest of the Bawson fandom!_

**Let Me Tell You Just Exactly What’s On My Mind**

Of course it happens the season after Mike retires. Of course that’s the year the San Diego Padres finally get their shit together and win a World Series.

It’s a full team effort. Blip’s OBP is a personal best and he makes Sportscenter’s Top 10 at least once a week with some crazy, score-stealing catch in the outfield, Tommy stays lights out (and healthy) for four months straight, and Livan goes on a hitting hot streak that lasts well into the postseason (and, as a bonus, throws in a few superbly athletic moves behind the plate that help the Padres to a few crucial outs). Ginny becomes the team’s not-so-secret weapon, floating between spot starter and mid-reliever, making guys practically cry for the closer as they whiff at  her curve and cutter.

And Mike? Mike’s there for all of it. He’s in the stands for each of Ginny’s regular season starts and in a box for every postseason game. He turns down an invitation to the Fox broadcast booth just before the NLDS, because he can barely breathe watching the team come so close, every inning tightens that anticipatory spring in his chest. But when Sonny tosses the last out of the last game -- in Petco, mercifully, and not the apocalyptic, crumbling wasteland that is O.Co -- instead of exploding, all of that tension inside him simply releases.

He feels like he’s floating, up above the park and the players and the fans, up into the San Diego evening sky. He feels like he might never come down, the mix of elation and disbelief is heady and the beers he had to calm his nerves in the 4th, 6th, 8th and 9th innings don’t help any. But then he sees Ginny storm the field, joining her teammates in a mass of jumping bodies and fingers pointed skyward -- and turning to meet his eyes in the stands.

Immediately, his feet are on the ground and he’s sprinting downstairs, through hallways he could traverse with his eyes closed and a field door that looks different even though he’s seen it a thousand times before -- bolting out onto the diamond before there’s even time to consider all the reasons he told himself he wasn’t going to do just that. She’s in his arms in seconds, and that’s the only thing that matters.

“You did it,” he murmurs in her ear, stopping himself just short of kissing her on camera for the whole world to see.

“We did,” Ginny whispers back as the team swarms around them, and he’s too elated not to believe her.

* * *

Of course it happens the way it does. Of course he asks her to move in the second she gets back from the post-Series press tour.

“I’m not saying no,” Ginny answers softly, standing in his foyer in her flight sweats because he couldn’t even wait until she had gotten herself settled. Her arms are still looped around his neck, though, and her lips were just on his collarbone, so he’s pretty sure she’s not lying. “I just want to make sure you know why you’re asking.”

Most of the people in his life have been doing this, treating him with kid gloves ever since the World Series win, warily waiting for the jealousy and regrets to catch up to him. Truthfully, he had been ready for the same thing.

It’s taken him out before, that emptiness in the midst of a publicity storm, the loneliness of feeling like you never have a moment to yourself, the unsettling eye of a hurricane that sends his stomach into agonizing loops. But this time, there was Ginny.

She a miracle in a million different ways, but the one he feels most acutely right now is the way she understands him. She can’t feel how retirement has left him untethered, but she can appreciate the magnitude of the loss. Baseball is a game of statistics, she parsed for him once, and without it, he felt like there was nothing to measure himself by.

 _“But there’s more to you than the back of the card,”_ she had told him, and he loved her even more for her certainty. _“There always was.”_

She was right, of course she was. These days, he doesn’t worry so much about weighing his own purpose. These days, he just looks in front of him and she’s there, shining it back at him.

“I’m asking because I want to live with you,” he answers her now. “Because I love you, and that’s all there is to it.”

The answer seems to take her by surprise, and he revels in her stilted nod and watery laugh, but even more in her response. “Okay.”

“Everyone seems to have the same idea about how I should feel about things,” he admits softly, pressing his lips to hers for just a second. He can tell her anything. That’s been his saving grace throughout all of this. “But they’re wrong. They think I’m busy listing my regrets, but I can’t stop counting my blessings.”

She smiles at that, and it’s one of those smiles that has him ready to lay it all on the line. For now, though, she’s beautiful and she’s home, and that’s all he needs.

* * *

Of course it happens, everything on the same day.

Mike’s sure there’s a few members of the Padres top brass that he owes a sarcastic thanks for the idea to retire his jersey on the same Opening Day that the first World Series in club history is being celebrated by the team he just missed out on, but he's also sure there isn’t an employee in the entire park who isn’t aware that any mention of a ring will earn them a patented Mike Lawson glare -- at the very least.

Al spends most of the day dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, and the rest of it avoiding Mike’s persistent line of questioning about any planned surprises. There’s a plaque with his face on it, he argues to seemingly deaf ears, and the number 36 is going out of rotation. That’s more than enough.

As it turns out, there is a surprise waiting for him. It’s just not the one he was expecting.

When Al stands for his speech, Mike notices Ginny shift nervously in her seat. A minute later, he realizes why, as the manager defers the podium to her for the introductory speech, much to the delight of the whooping fans. She casts a look his way as she begins, and he knows her tiny smile at his shocked expression is half about him and half about successfully keeping this secret.

“The nature of our sport means players are constantly on the move. From team to team, city to city to city, it’s a rarity that any one place feels like home,” she tells the crowd. “But then again, Mike Lawson is a rarity…”

He feels his face go red as she sings his praises -- career stats, leadership skills, and a few things he’s pretty sure she just made up -- but what he’s not prepared for is the way he’s completely and utterly done in by her closing words.

“San Diego is my home,” she says, with the tiniest quiver in her voice, and he’s buzzing along with the restless fans, “and Mike Lawson is San Diego.”

He walks to the podium then with his heart stomping in his chest like cleats on cheap bleachers, and it’s only the look on her face when she turns back to take her seat that reminds him to breathe. He wants to kiss her. He’s getting the honor of a lifetime, the capstone of a charmed and celebrated career, and all he wants in this world is to kiss her.

Thankfully, his own remarks go off without a hitch -- the jokes land and the cheers go up in all the right places -- but he barely even takes it in. The only words he hears are the echoes of her in his head. He _needs_ to kiss her.

And when they lift his jersey to the rafters, he turns back for another look and she’s crying, hands clasped over her mouth and a look in her eyes that makes him feel proud of himself for the first time in years. The crowd noise swells around them and he just can’t help it anymore.

* * *

Of course it happens, that night in their bed.

Ginny’s sprawled out across him, wearing an old jersey of his, with all the buttons undone -- and nothing else. Mike Lawson’s had a lot of great moments in his life, some of them earlier in the same day, but nothing that even comes close to this.

“You kissed me on TV today,” she murmurs into his chest, tracing her fingers across his pecs in a distracting manner.

“I did, didn’t I?” There isn’t a single part of him that regrets it.

“Should we turn on Sportscenter, see if it makes the countdown?”

He chuckles, and it jostles her enough that she lifts her head up to meet his eyes. “I’d rather take another look at that championship ring, rook,” he admits, heart swelling even when she rolls her eyes at the nickname. “If I’m being honest, I kind of can’t believe you’re not wearing it in bed.”

Ginny leans across him to her nightstand, planting a knee on either side of his hips and dipping down to press kisses at the corners of his mouth as she reaches blindly for the ring box emblazoned with the San Diego logo.

“I didn’t want to accidentally clock you with it,” she giggles, nibbling at his lower lip as his palms trace their way down her sides to the curve of her thighs. He wants her again already, can’t even imagine a time when he won’t. “You might be a legend, but you’re no good to me unconscious.”

She grabs at his right hand then, and pulls it up between them, dropping her weight to her hips against his and making him groan aloud. She’s grinning knowingly at that as she tries to slide the bulky band onto his fingers, only successfully getting it halfway down his pinky. He expects to feel a certain way about the sight of it, all ostentatious diamonds and the wrong year stamped in silver, but he’s too distracted by the way her silly smile drops off her face for something more serious. “Oh, that’s…” She trails off, running her own finger around the seam where his skin meets the metal band. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Yeah?” He curves his neck up to nip at her chin and she echoes in agreement as she kisses him back, greedy and intense.

“You should have one of your own.” That snaps him out of the moment in a split second, and he shifts uncomfortably beneath her. He’s not interested in having this conversation, and she knows as much. He doesn’t want what he hasn’t earned.

“Now listen, I told you as many times as I told Al,” he chuckles half-heartedly, slipping the heavy ring off and reaching back to set it in the plush box while she settles at his side. “And, by the way, I’m pretty sure he made me one anyway, but he’s too scared to give it to me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She smiles at his light-hearted attempt, but it’s a superficial one, and her face goes back to serious almost immediately. “Marry me.”

“Gin.” The corners of his mouth turn up and he snorts a little laugh through his nose, but her expression doesn’t change.

“Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Marry me.” It’s not even a question. She’s so bossy. He’d laugh aloud if he could catch his breath.

“Yeah, okay.” Not much in his life has gone the way he expected, Mike realizes now, looking into her eyes and seeing the rest of his future. Somehow, it’s always better that way.

“I’m serious,” she warns.

“Me too.”

Now it’s Ginny’s turn to be shocked. He’s not entirely sure why. “You are?” This is completely backwards and totally perfect at the same time.

“Yes. I mean, I’m a little annoyed, because I had a whole thing planned, but I’m saying yes.” He’s starting to float again, like he did after that final pitch, but her immediate disbelief keeps him tethered for the moment.

“You did not have a thing planned.”  

Mike remembers Blip’s face and the way Evelyn practically blew out his eardrums when he had stopped by to get their advice about jewelers. He remembers feeling impatient, asking them if they thought he should wait. He doesn’t feel impatient anymore.

“I absolutely did.”

“Liar.”

At that slight, he jumps unceremoniously out of bed, ignoring her wide eyes and protests to cross to his dresser and dig the box out of the back of his sock drawer. There were supposed to be flowers, candles -- he had a menu planned, for god’s sake -- but it’s just like her to make him realize there’s no time like the present.

He drops to a knee in front of her and it’s the most familiar feeling and brand new all at once. “Ginny Baker?”

She’s giving him that look that says she thinks he’s a huge dork, but there are also tears in her eyes so this must be at least partly right. “Yeah?”

“I love you, and I’m grateful for you every damn day.” It’s crazy that he’s nervous, technically they’ve already answered this question. He chalks it up to being naked and kneeling on the cold hardwood floor. “Will you… accept the fact that I had a whole thing planned?”

She slaps at his shoulder, but that laugh of hers betrays any outrage she tries to fake. “That’s it?!”

“Well, I can’t ask again!” He’s grinning like a fool, and so is she as he crawls across her, back into bed, kissing at the happy tears that have spilled down her cheeks and holding the ring up with a raised eyebrow. “You already asked me and I said yes. We’re engaged, babe. Now, do you want this or not?”

She does wear a ring to bed that night, after all. Of course she does.

* * *

 

A/N: [ Ring inspiration ](https://a.1stdibscdn.com/archivesE/upload/j_28/32_14/org_pentagonalbrowndiamondring/ORG_pentagonalbrowndiamondring_l.jpeg). Because baseball! And love!


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